


Thread Count

by propinquitous



Series: Map of the Falling Sky [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Ficlet, Gen, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propinquitous/pseuds/propinquitous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas starts to understand sense memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





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Cas has learned that polyester can be slippery, like the outside of his sleeping bag. He has learned that it can be rough, like the material of his vest for work. He knows that cotton is softest, especially after a few washings, and that denim is also cotton but stronger. Sometimes cotton is starched to make collars stand straight, but he is not sure if he likes that.

When he settles into his sleeping bag the night after Dean leaves, that's when he notices how worn cotton smells. It's slightly floral, leftover from detergent. The places where the sleeves meet the body smell a little sour. There is also something else underneath those scents, something familiar and warm that's almost like cinnamon. It's the smell Dean has left behind in hundreds of hotel rooms and the beds of many strangers.

This shirt belonged to Dean. It says Led Zeppelin across the front and there are small holes along the hem. Cas lies on his back with one hand tucked beneath his head, which is tilted to bury his nose in his shoulder. He prefers to sleep on his side, usually, but he doesn't think he will sleep very much tonight. The previous day has left him emptied, drained, and he wants to sleep but can't find the will. He had hoped Dean would tell him to come home, say that he missed him and that he was so, so sorry for making him leave. Cas thinks that one out of three isn't bad.

After a while, he rolls onto his side, still pressing his nose against the sleeve. His bare legs slide against the sleeping bag. The fabric is cold and it makes him shiver. He inhales the scents of his t-shirt and closes his eyes. A moment later he feels the corners of his mouth pull into a frown and then suddenly an ache spreads over his forehead, sharp in the center and dull at the edges. His body tries to make itself small, pulling his knees to meet his elbows as his forearms cover his face. Then his cheeks are wet and he is shaking.

He wakes up at six a.m. to sunlight creeping in under the door. A second passes, before he opens his eyes, when a familiar smell wafts over him. He rubs his jaw against soft cotton and for the shortest second he thinks that he's waking up in a motel room like he did yesterday, and he is not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure I'm ever gonna recover from that episode.


End file.
